Gomez have played a perfect encore: a clear, voluptuous version of Rhythm and Blues Alibi, followed by a storming take on Whippin' Piccadilly, its opening shuffle of slide guitar and rowdy harmonica snapping into an unexpected, souped-up frenzy of disco funk. It couldn't get any better. And then they return and slip into a molten, shimmering Tijuana Lady.

Ben Ottewell's gruff, cement-mixer voice is revered for a reason: it is transfixing. When he sings the absurd line "a mariachi desperado" in Tijuana Lady, holding the final note as if it's the last link to the love of his life, the purity of the sound is heart-stopping. There are times, when he bursts into Get Myself Arrested, and especially in simpler, beautiful songs like Hangover and We Haven't Turned Around, when his voice tears across your spine like electricity.

That's not all Gomez are about, of course. Less feted but just as impressive is Ian Ball, whose warm tones weave tenderly with Ottewell's rasps on the blues-meets-Nirvana whisper of 78 Stone Wobble. Then there are the guitars: a tingling buzz of flamenco in Las Vegas Dealer, billowing washes of psychedelia, rippling blues lines that dip and rise throughout the set.

They're far from perfect. Criminally, when the singing is over in Tijuana Lady its opulence is sullied by a tacked-on, extended guitar workout (think Clapton - terrifying). But the atmosphere is amazing: Gomez grin joyfully, and the audience are in raptures, punching the air and bellowing along. You get the feeling they could make a stadium show feel cheeringly intimate, and that's a real talent.

• At the Forum, London NW5 (0171-344 0044), tomorrow and Saturday.